Specimens
by Vanamo
Summary: Cosima reflects on the events of the past year. Cosima/Katja friendship, Cophine. Spoilers for the season one finale.


You guess it's been about a year since this whole shitstorm started. Almost as many months since Beth killed herself and, against all odds Sarah Manning happened to be getting off the train and, as Felix said, "stole her shit." Although you guess the odds have been on your lucky side for your entire existence. Human clones, genetic identicals… as a scientist, you can testify that 99% of your trials are failures. The enzyme doesn't bond to its substrate the way it should because of an anomalous pH level, your plant is drowning in its own ethylene and bends even when nothing blocks its path… you sometimes feel strangely proud of yourself for no reason other than you are that rare, successful specimen.

That is, until the others started dying.

But you're getting ahead of yourself. You scientists tend to do that; you think up this crazy hypothesis and want to start writing the paper before you've even performed the experiment.

It was Katja who brought you the theory. She had been in Munich for Oktoberfest, which is basically this two week party of beer and pot in true German brawny style that you could totally dig. She was at one of the numerous parties on just the second day when it happened. She just about drunk off her ass when an explosion rocked the adjacent tent. She stumbled in, thinking it was a replica cannon that shot wienerschnitzel or something equally über German. But it was a gunshot to the chest of one Danielle Fournier of France - who, except for the brown curly hair against Katja's red punk cut, looked just like her.

You remember the fear in Katja's eyes when she recounted the story to you over Skype. She found Beth Childs, who found you through the facial recognition system. Katja wasn't sober enough at the time to really comprehend the possible gravity of the situation (but who could, really? no one's mind immediately jumps to clones being hunted by some weird cult). The other party-goers thought Katja was Danielle's sister and she came into possession of Danielle's purse. The next morning, after sobering up and confirming it wasn't a dream, Katja began to piece together the Euro-clone story.

It was around that time that she started coughing up blood.

She went to a doctor first, obviously. They ruled out all the 'common' reasons for a person to just start coughing up blood but in the end had no diagnosis other than an atypical case of pneumonia.

Her chest rattled and she paused for a moment to cough into a tissue that you could tell was already seeping with blood, even with the only light in Katja's room was the eerie glow of the computer on her pale face. Even her fiery hair was dull compared to the deep sanguine, almost black speckles of blood on her lips and chin.

"I need your help, Cosima," she rasped.

And of course, you had. Like you had told Sarah, your biology - the biology of the clones as a whole - was your imperative. You never figured out how Katja got ahold of blood samples from Aryanna Giordano and Janika Zingler - the Italian and the Austian, respectively. She gathered the passports, the blood and hair, and her own chest x-rays. Her lungs were swirls of milky white, like mineral water pooling in a cavern to form a stalagmite.

You suppose blood is just that, in a way - mineral water.

The last time you talked to her was the night before Katja met "Beth." She'd been the worst you'd seen her - blood pooled under her eyes, blood on her lips, pale and feverish, huddled in her faux furs and the crisp hotel comforter.

"Tell me your symptoms," you remember saying. Your notebook open and ready to gather data.

"It- it feels like," she wheezed, "it hurts, Cosima. It hurts with each- each breath," she stopped to cough, and blood gurgled through her pursed lips. She no longer made an effort to keep her head up and leans heavily on her suitcase, barely unpacked.

"Does it get worse at night?" you asked.

She nodded minutely, and added, "and, as the weather cools.. it feels like-"

You almost quipped, "like death warmed over?" Looking back, you are glad you held your tongue.

Then Helena shot her in the head. From there, everything seemed to fly by. You met Sarah, you met Delphine.

You met Delphine.

And then you got sick. Your lungs began to rebel against the Toronto winter. Both you and Delphine knew better than to think it was atypical pneumonia.

The two of you had to get away, she said. Sarah and Felix would find Kira, and there was nothing we could do about Allison now. The two of you will find a cure.

You don't know how much longer Katja would have lasted if not for that shot to the head. Your scientific mind tells you not much. Which means not much more time for you, either.

You know Delphine wanted to return to France. The air was better there, she said, but it would be too easy for Leekie to trace them. So you decided on Belize because it was the only English-speaking incognito country you could think of that wasn't some atoll out in the Pacific.

The two of you were able to find a rental bungalow, even during tourist season. Twenty minutes from town. A town with a hospital and lab that Delphine was able to use, if necessary. She worked tirelessly, wading through your genome like the waves down on the beach: soft but relentless, eroding the sand until you were both left raw and bare.

The only respite you have from that impending moment is when she kisses you. She fills your chest with warmth and it almost doesn't hurt.

But it also doesn't stop the clock.

"Rest, ma cherie," she tells you softly. Your hair is matted against your forehead and you feel cold even in the tropical heat. There's a cough trying to claw itself out of your throat, but you refuse to ruin the sheets when Delphine just washed them.

Your hair is shorter now. You decided to cut your dreads because they were just too recognizable. Delphine found you on the floor at the foot of the bed with patches of hair missing like a doll gone through the washing machine. You watched the palm trees sway through your watery eyes, watched the sunset. You felt like you had lost part of yourself.

No, you were still losing yourself.

Your lungs ache but you push it out of your mind. Delphine cradles you in her arms for the nth time as you berate yourself for being weak. For your faulty biology.

You were just one of a few, soon to be one fewer. Who are you, to have it all?


End file.
